


into a white and soundless place

by weatheredlaw



Series: and it all adds up [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Coma, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Head Injury, Medical Trauma, Mild Language, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: There are a lot of things that shouldn't have happened – Peter, the suit, the fight, the truth – but this. This is something he should have turned away from. The other things, he couldn't stop, not really. But he could have turned, spared himself the sleepless nights that would follow.or: peter suffers a major injury. tony broods, may considers, mj counts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wahhhh this is finally done. it took me ALL WEEK to get here. i think this might be the last one in this series but i can't be sure. i had a follow-up piece in the planning process, but some of that dialogue made its way here so. we'll see.

_some things you'll do for money, some you'll do for fun_  
but the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one  
\-- "love, love, love", the mountain goats

 

* * *

 

_**tony** _

They shouldn't have let him watch.

There are a lot of things that shouldn't have happened – Peter, the suit, the fight, the truth – but _this._ This is something he should have turned away from. The other things, he couldn't stop, not really. But he could have turned, spared himself the sleepless nights that would follow.

_(“He's got swelling on the brain, Tony.”_

“ _His heal factor--”_

“ _Is great, I'm sure. But I can't take that risk.”_

“ _What are you telling me?”_

“ _That I don't have a lot of options, and I need you to tell me it's okay to move forward.”_

“ _What's the next step?”_

“ _We're going to put him in a medically induced coma. It'll take the pressure off the brain, give his heal factor time to work.”)_

After the first seizure, really, Tony should have looked away.

There were a lot of things, in the span of thirty minutes, that Tony should have done.

(call may, call steve, call pepper, call _anyone_ – )

Instead, he watches. Because he is the only one here that is so very tied to this boy, because Peter is _his_ , in some way, even if the kid's been fighting him at every god damn turn.

They put his kid in a coma, and Tony, really, shouldn't have watched.

It's after when Pepper slides in next to him, lacing their fingers together, watching people mill around Peter's bed, checking vitals, making sure everything is alright.

“Are you going to call her or should I?”

The boy in that bed is so _still_ , so quiet. He's been intubated, and that, honestly, was maybe the worst of it. Tony drags his gaze away from the room, finally, and looks at her.

“I will.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Nothing about any of this is good, but she needs to be here.”

“You're upset, I should call.”

“You're _not_?” he asks, sharper than he intends.

Pepper doesn't change her tone, only gives him a sidelong glance that tells him he's going to reach a limit on this shit in two minutes. Tony cuts his losses.

He says, “I'll do it.”

“There's a plane gassed up downtown. I'll have a car outside the apartment.” She untwists their fingers and turns to him, grasping his jacket and drawing him in. “This is not your fault, Tony. Remember that.”

“She won't see it that way.”

“She's his family,” Pepper concedes. “She doesn't have to. But _you_ do.”

“I'm his...I'm _something._ ”

“I know.” She kisses him, quick. “But I don't want you to martyr yourself over this. Peter won't appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

 _One free slap_ , he'd once offered.

May Parker takes him up on the offer.

“If anything happens to him, if I _lose him_ \--”

“He's in good hands.”

“ _You_ did this to us.”

“I know.”

She grits her teeth, sets herself against the edge of the world, and turns her back on him. Tony feels her hatred flying off in every direction, planets shooting out of orbit. He feels winded, exhausted, remembers suddenly that this was _his_ fight, too, not eight hours ago. That this was a thing and there are other people on his team that maybe aren't doing so hot.

Sam Wilson is hobbling out of bed, grumbling about the cane he's being offered, looking none too pleased to see Tony, a leftover of his loyalty to Steve. “What do you want?”

“You came through in a big way today. Wanted to say thanks.”

“Those weapons are jacked. What the hell are we up against?”

“Homebrew alien gear. Peter took care of the core group a few months ago, but that tech's still out there, and there's a few guys--”

“Is that kid okay?”

Tony sets his jaw. “No.”

“ _Shit._ ”

“He'll be fine,” Tony says quickly. Maybe for Sam, maybe for himself. “Docs put him in a coma.”

“ _They what?_ ”

“For the brain swelling. Kid's got a crazy heal factor, but he's got trauma.”

“Because of me.”

“No.”

“He saved my ass, and then he got hurt.”

“It's what we do for one another.”

Sam raises a brow. “Is it?”

“I don't want to hash this out with you anymore. I want to move forward.”

“Man, you're gonna _suck_ at marriage.”

“I just assumed,” Tony says. Sam finally takes the cane. “Can you walk?”

“I'll be alright.”

“I'll have a PT up here tomorrow.”

Sam nods. “Appreciate that.” Then: “I wanna see him. I wanna see Peter.”

Tony nods. “Okay. We can do that.”

“And you should call Steve, let him know what happened.”

Tony sighs. “I knew you were gonna say that."

 

* * *

 

_**may** _

When Ben had died, there had been nothing like this. May had never had the chance to say goodbye in the hospital. Her quick _love you_ as he'd headed out that night still rings hollow and _false_ in her ears, even though she was earnest as she'd ever been when she said it, fully expecting him to crawl into their bed three hours later, say something about Peter or work or the god damn moon because he was that kind of a dork –

But none of it happened that way. May told her husband she loved him, and then he bled to death on the street while people _watched._

She's allowed to put a chair by Peter's bed and sit. The doctor says he can hear her, to an extent, so she tells him little things right after she sits down, how she had made spaghetti for dinner, and if he got better quick enough, it'd probably still be sitting on the counter where she'd left it.

She tells him she's got to figure out something for work tomorrow, she's got to come up with something to say, some story to cover her tracks –

“It must be exhausting,” she muses carefully, “to sort through the lies.”

“Ms. Parker?”

May starts, turning around in her chair.

She's seen Steve Rogers on TV, and photos in the PSA's Pete brings home sometimes, but – god he's tall. Good looking, too. Somber, she reads from his expression.

“Ms. Parker, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be,” she says without thought. She needs to stop comparing this to what happened with Ben because the doctor told her Peter is probably going to be just fine, considering the quick actions of Tony and his team, along with Peter's heal factor she still doesn't understand.

“It's a sad day when one of our--”

“Peter isn't one of you,” she says absently. “Tony asked, Pete said no.”

“Of course. I only mean--”

“I know what you mean.” She rests her chin in one hand, gently holds Peter's own in the other. “But you don't have to be sorry about something you weren't even there for.”

Steve makes a soft noise of agreement behind her. “Fair point. Still. I hate to see a kid wind up like this.”

May breathes through her nose, closes her eyes. “No one tricked him into doing it. Peter does this because it's just...who he is.” She opens her eyes and turns to look at Steve. “You don't deserve him.”

“I'm sure we don't.”

“And you can't tell him I told you that,” she adds quietly. “He'll never forgive me.”

 

* * *

 

Peter gets a steady stream of visitors for a while. After Steve is Sam, who looks guilty and injured enough for May to catch on that Peter might have gotten hurt lending a hand. She wants to help him feel better, but this entire process is exhausting. Pepper stops by with tea and an offer for one of the rooms, if she feels up to it. The doctors come in, then out, followed by Tony who just...god, he looks like a caged animal, and May wants to make _him_ feel better, too, but she also kind of wants to strangle him.

Neither seems to be the right choice. They opt for silence until Tony says, “I don't know how you ever did this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, can you imagine putting a kid behind the wheel of a car?”

“No,” she says. “But it's one of those sort of _have to_ moments. Ben was always the one to tell me things would be okay. I had the statistics, Ben had the perspective. If he doesn't drive, the kids at school will tease him. If he doesn't wear these certain shoes, you know they'll give him a hard time. That was how Ben saw things.”

“And this? How would he see this?”

May sighs. She's thought a lot about what Ben might have thought of Peter being Spider-Man. She knows, for one, he'd be wild about all the tech and the gadgets, impressed that Peter had done so _much_ on his own with so little.

She knows he'd be scared, too. Richard and Mary's life was always just a little dangerous, he told her. They got money from strange people, did strange experiments, ran with a strange crowd. He worried about his brother a lot, talked to him late into the night, tried to get him to take a job with the university, something normal and decent for once. Something that wouldn't wind up with him dead.

In the end, Ben had never been able to change Richard's mind about much of anything at all, except that Peter needed to go to school, that neither of them had the time to homeschool him. Peter was in morning kindergarten the day they came to the apartment, told Ben and May they'd need to leave Pete with them for just a bit.

“A few weeks,” Richard had said.

Mary had looked less convinced at his side. May wonders know if she was already planning out the next part of all this. Putting together the clues from the conference, the napkin with Tony's number and scrawl, the room key and the letter.

_If anything happens, find his father._

She wonders if Mary could have _ever_ guessed that Tony would find Peter first.

“May?”

“Hmm?”

Tony looks at her for a moment before he says gently, “I think you should find that room now.”

“I can't leave him.”

“There isn't a single moment of this that he'll be alone. I can have superheroes on god damn bedtime story rotation, I swear.”

“What if they--”

“When it's time for Peter to wake up, you'll be the first to know.”

May sighs. She wishes there was something _more_ of him to hold onto. Or at the very lease he could respond to her touch. She wants him to squeeze her hand, crack a joke at her expense, make fun of her glasses or her co-op tote.

“Okay,” she says, and finally lets go.

 

* * *

 

_**steve** _

Steve pulls bedside duty, and brings a book of poems Bruce lent him. He reads a few, after the doctors tell him that Peter can hear what he's saying, from time to time, and enjoys the quiet sensation of discovering the lines along with him. He wonders what kind of books Peter likes, what kind of things he's interested in at all.

 _Skinny kid with something to prove_ , Steve thinks. Some things just...never change.

Some time around five in the morning, Bruce meanders into the room, looked disheveled and out of place.

“You alright?”

Banner blinks. Frowns. “Sorry. Tony put a cot for me in the lab, but I'm just...not sleeping so great.” He sighs, settling in a chair against the wall. “Maybe I need to go into a medically induced state of unconsciousness. Might clear my head.”

“That's not funny.” Bruce shrugs. “We missed you, you know.”

“During your spat?”

“After. During. Whenever.”

“I was busy.”

“Tony says you won't talk about it.”

“It's...” He looks up, then to the floor. “It's a little complicated.”

“I get it.”

Bruce chuckles. “You really don't, but it's good of you to say that.” He sighs, looking at the bed. “Peter's a good kid. Whip smart, too. Goes to a pretty fancy school in Queens.”

“Lucky for him.”

“I never thought about...this, you know? All of the stuff that happened to us, we were beyond this. No dances to worry about, or curfew to make. How to you just, like, _balance_ all that, you know? Kid's some kind of guru.”

“His life is dangerous,” Steve says. “This job isn't meant for kids.”

“He's sixteen.”

“He's a child. That's what that means, Bruce.”

“He made the choice.”

“He shouldn't have had the option.”

Bruce sighs. “Tony doesn't know much about where the powers came from. Pete's a little...mum on that. Something to do with Oscorp and a spider bite, apparently, but I can't be sure. I studied his blood samples. Lot of interesting structures to look at. And, of course, on a molecular level, on a _genetic_ level--”

“Hey, Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“I don't know what you're saying anymore.” Not necessarily out of ignorance, but Bruce's sentences are starting to run together, slur a little at the ends. “I think you need to go to bed.”

“Probably. What about you?”

“I'll be fine.”

Bruce sighs. “Yeah, yeah, of course you will be.” He claps Steve on the shoulder. “Holler if you need something.”

“Sure.” Steve watches him go, then turns back to the bed.

All of this happened to Peter, and he never had much of a choice, not until after. Tony's told him about the offer, how he left them hanging there, scrambling to cover. _Clever_ , Steve thinks. He wonders how clever. He's seen the kid fight, seen him spar with some of the best. Hell, he's _been_ there, going round for round with him in the ring. He watched Peter beat the bag, he took that punch, he watched Clint carry him to bed.

He knows, really, that Peter can handle all of this.

He's just not sure if he should have to.

 

* * *

 

_**tony** _

What Tony wants to do it _vomit._ Every day this goes on, his constitution gets worse and worse, and he's having a hard time holding down much of anything.

It's startling Pepper.

“He's going to be fine, everyone said--”

“It's not about that.”

“Stop guilt tripping yourself.”

“May _slapped_ me.”

Pepper sighs. “You _said_ she could.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Uh-uh. No buts. You did what you did. You weren't the one that gave him a head injury, Tony. He saw someone who needed him, he went for it.” She's had to keep her own life moving through all of this, even though Tony's has pretty much come to a standstill. “Look, the longer you blame yourself for this, the less...rational you'll become.” She looks up at him. “I know what you're thinking right now.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don't.”

“Pepper, if I don't figure out a way to turn this...spider shit _off_ , then what's the point?”

She sets down her phone, fixing him with a corrective gaze that just deflects, splinters off into nothing. “Tony. Peter isn't an infant. He isn't a toddler.”

“He's _sixteen._ ”

She holds up a hand. “ _And_ I am not saying he's made the best choices. But _this_ was one he made. He could have kept it all to himself, moved on with his life. But he told you why. He _told_ you what made him do it. And you, of all people, should understand that.”

“It's a waste, if he dies.”

“I don't disagree. But whether or not he wants you to take this from him is entirely his choice.”

“Well I wasn't going to do it without _asking_ ,” Tony says hotly. “But if he's got amnesia--”

“Stop.” Pepper stands, leaning over and kissing his forehead. “You _have_ to _stop._ ”

Tony shakes his head. “I can't believe it's _you_ telling _me_ this.”

“Neither can I,” she says, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Keep me posted today. And tell May she needs to go home for just a bit. Recharge her batteries. I'll have someone fly her back. Maybe she can bring Peter some of his things.”

“Sure.”

“Tony.” She pauses at the doorway.

He looks up, and he catches her at a rather blissful moment. There's light pouring in from the windows, and her hair is still moving, her hand lingering at the door. Everything about her is a graceful line, a delicate swoop of something or another. She is too good to be _his_ , and yet she's chosen to be here, over and over again.

Even when it gets like this.

“I love you,” she says.

And she goes before he has the chance to say it back, because she knows him, and she knows it's...hard to say, sometimes.

But that doesn't sit right, not with him.

Not today.

He follows her, pins her to the wall and kisses her _stupid_ because he loves her, he loves her, _he loves her_ – and once upon a time he came close to losing her.

He won't let it slip by again.

 

* * *

 

Bruce isn't any more helpful than Pepper, really.

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“It might be good just to have.”

“Disagree on that point as well.”

“Come _on_ , Banner, level with me.”

Bruce sighs, setting down the book he's been leafing through and leaning back in his chair. The lab is basically his little hidey-hole now. Incense burning in the corner for calm, clear spaces. His _dumb_ books in the _dumb_ corner, taking up space and demanding that Tony look at this.

God he's missed this green genius, but he _wishes_ someone would agree with him for _five fucking seconds._

Even Steve thinks it's a bad idea, and all he's done since he saw Peter was tell Tony how much of a mistake it was the recruit him.

“Okay, Steve, let's parse through this, then. You have a kid in a homemade spider suit swinging through New York. He's saving people, he's doing his thing, and then that shit with the weapons happens. And he's _still in his homemade spider costume_. He's doing his thing, only this time, he's totally alone. He's got no one to turn to because, hello, you've tried calling me and _you_ have my fucking phone number. I'm an impossibility to him, at this stage, as are you. _So_ \--”

“I get it,” Steve says, firmly. “I just...”

“Don't really see me as the mentor-y father figure, do you?”

“You have to admit you're...not really the type.”

Tony shrugs. “Can't argue with that.”

“I just think...all this could have been prevented.”

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Or maybe he drowns in a lake. Maybe he's crushed to death. Maybe he's blown up before this. I'm not going to stand here and, like, _pretend_ I saved his fucking life. But I won't say it was a mistake for him to be better suited for all this. He chose it,” and god dammit now he sounds like Bruce and Pepper. “Or it chose him, at least.”

They stare through the window into the hospital room. May's gone home for the weekend, promising to be back Sunday night. Tony's pulling parent duty in the interim.

On cue, Steve says, “And he happens to be your kid.”

“Wild, right?”

Steve nods, breathes deep. “He's strong,” he finally says. “Kid has a decent punch. Good heart, too.”

“Doesn't get that from me.”

Steve looks toward him, brow arched. “You had plenty of heart when you went after us.”

“Is that what it was?”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Come on, Tony. Don't sell yourself so short.”

_I'm sure there's something to admire underneath all that armor._

Tony's phone buzzes as Steve steps into the room to take up vigil by Peter's bedside.

 **may:** bringing some company with me

“Company.”

 **tony:** like who  
 **may:** explain when i get there

 

* * *

 

_**may** _

When May had opened her door to meet the Stark Car that would take her back to the plane on Sunday night, she hadn't expected Michelle. She double hadn't expected Michelle and a dufflebag, with Ned's face filling the screen of her phone.

“ _Is he okay, Aunt May?_ ”

She stop, knuckles white on her bag. She knew that Ned knew, but Michelle was...different. She was that girl Peter was pretending not to care much about. Just a new friend, he kept saying. “What are you doing here?”

“My parents are in Vancouver, Ned's worried sick _and_ in the Keys, and I know about Peter.” She ticks these things off like they _justify_ all this, somehow. “I'm going with you.”

“That's not happening.”

“It is, and I want to.” She glances at her watch. “Look, my parents are on a prolonged second honeymoon, I'm subsisting on PB and J's, and I know you're going to Tony Stark's fancy upstate lair.”

“How do you--”

“ _It's on Reddit,”_ Ned explains. _“Tons of aerial photographs. I don't think it's a secret.”_

“How do you know about Peter.”

“ _I told you--”_

“Ned, sweetie, not you.”

Michelle shrugs. “Wasn't hard to figure out. The DC trip sort of helped. Pete being a total clutz no matter _what_ he's wearing didn't hurt either.” She pauses. “Ned told me, after I grilled him. Folded like a fan.”

“ _That's not true!_ ”

May sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can't take you upstate with me unless your parents say it's okay.”

“Cool, no problem. I'll just shoot them a text and let them know my friend Spider-Man is laid up in bed--”

“That's not what I meant,” May says, teeth gritted.

Michelle picks up on this, sends a quick text and says, “We're good.”

“Promise.”

“They're busy. They're on a very romantic boat trip.”

May exhales, _hard._ “Okay. Let's go.”

 

* * *

 

She doesn't explain the entire thing to either of them. The details, honestly, are hard to sort through. She tells them, though, that Peter is unconscious. That he's been unconscious for almost a week, and they're trying to help him get better.

“It's...not easy to see.”

Michelle shrugs. “I'll be fine.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into.”

They've had to hang up on Ned by this point, with the promise to call later. May can picture him wringing his hands in Florida, pacing a hole in the carpet, stress building something.

The plane starts to descend, and May's stomach _turns._

“I've seen some messed up stuff,” Michelle says. “I volunteered at the cadaver lab last year.”

“That's not—”

The landing is bumpy, and May's worry gets swallowed up in the noise.

In her rush, she'd forgotten to explain to Michelle that Tony's not entirely thrilled she's there, that she may be subjected to some kind of bizarre, Starkian security search, but –

Nothing.

Tony's waiting for them inside, and his expression softens when he sees them.

“This must be MJ.” Michelle, to her credit, is only starstruck for a moment before she takes Tony's extended hand. “Firm grip.”

“My dad says weak handshakes are for fascists.”

“Duly noted.” He turns and paces ahead of them.

“Any changes?”

“Scan shows he's healing, but doc's worried about seizures.”

Michelle frowns. “Seizures?”

“Comes with the head trauma territory. We'll know more after tomorrow's follow-up scan. They're considering an injection, some kind of steroid they think might speed up his heal factor, but it's not tested and I can't say I'm excited to let him be a guinea pig for it.”

“Thank you for making that decision.”

“Well tomorrow I'm getting _what would May do_ shirts made up for the whole team, so.” He sniffs. “It was a tough weekend without you. And Pepper.”

“Where is she?”

“In LA. Negotiating some land sales. My old house is...well. Long story.” He stops, glancing at Michelle. “She'll be back in the morning. Did you tell her--”

“Please don't talk about me like I'm not here.”

Tony raises a brow, looking at her. “Alright, that's a fair request. Did she tell you what's wrong with him?”

“Head injury, he's unconscious.”

“So no specifics.”

May worries her lip. “I didn't...want to scare her.”

“Scare me. What's going on? Why aren't you guys just being straight with me.”

Tony's started heading toward Peter's room again, but he stops now, just short of the hall that will give Michelle a full view of what's been going on.

“Okay,” he says. “I'll tell you. Peter got his head banged up on a mission. He's got swelling on the brain. He had two seizures before the doctor here decided to put him into a medically induced coma. He's been intubated and knocked out. He's not breathing on his own, and he's completely unresponsive because of the sedation.” He raises a brow. “Does that do it for you?”

“Yes,” Michelle says, and moves past him.

May flinches. “ _Wait_ \--”

But it's too late. Michelle is in the hall, looking through the window, staring straight ahead.

May hadn't forgotten, really, but it's still a shock to see Peter this way. Tubes here and there, monitors keeping track of his heart rate and managing his breathing. As long as she's known her nephew, she's never known him to be this _still_ , and yet –

Michelle's breathing quickens next to her, and she steps a little closer, looking over her shoulder at May and Tony. “Is he--”

“He's fine.”

“He looks like he's dying.”

Tony nods. “He could have.” Then: “I guess he still could.”

May closes her eyes. Counts to ten. Opens them. Michelle is looking right at her.

“Can I--”

“Of course.”

She nods, sliding her bag off her shoulder and stepping into the room. It's almost like a waltz, May thinks. A dancer moving across the stage to meet her partner, only to find the space empty, nowhere to rest her hands. Michelle moves carefully, crosses the room until she's at Peter side, then slides onto the bed next to him.

She takes his hand in hers and studies it, like it might be the way out.

“Can he hear me?”

May's moved into the room now. “He can, they say. Sometimes.”

Michelle nods. Silence fills the room for a while, until she looks at Peter and smiles before she says quietly, “Hey.”

The monitors beep at her.

“I'll call Ned in the morning, it's so late.” She sniffs. “Bet you didn't think I knew. I mean it's you, you're so thick about this thing. You're terrible at secrets. You need a scary voice or something. I knew it was you, in DC.” She turns his hand over, palm facing up. “I know a lot of things about you, actually. I know you're Spider-Man. I know your favorite color is green. I know you hate _Catcher in the Rye_ because you told Mr. Hastings you thought Holden Caulfield was a piece of shit. I know you like the corner pieces of brownies and your favorite movie isn't _Return of the Jedi_ , but you're being pretty secretive about what it actually is.”

She lifts his palm to her lips. Kisses it.

May turns away.

“I also know you're becoming my favorite person, and that's dangerous. For both of us. Mostly because it kind of sucks that my favorite person has an actual hero complex and wears spandex. Seriously.” She yawns, sliding off the bed and into the chair next to him. “I'll wait here. I promise not to draw stuff on your face, like, right away.”

And, just like that, she's out like a light. May thinks to move her to a room, but there's no point. Let her have him for tonight. She's a good girl, and Peter's lucky, she thinks. So very lucky.

All these people and this whole place –

Who would have thought, in the end?

 

* * *

 

_**mj** _

“ _You shouldn't draw on his face.”_

“I'm not.”

“ _Then what's the marker for?”_

Michelle yanks the cap off her brown Crayola. “I'm counting his freckles.”

“ _That's weird. Why are you doing that?”_

She shrugs. “I've always wanted to count someone's freckles. Now I can. It'll be like a fun fact he can find out about himself.” She starts marking them with the tip of the marker. “It's washable, Ned. These were made for toddlers.”

“ _I don't want Mr. Stark to be mad.”_

“Don't worry about it. How's the beach?”

“ _It's okay.”_

“He'd tell you to enjoy yourself. Don't let this keep you from hittin' those waves.”

Ned huffs. _“Wish I was there.”_

Michelle pauses. Smiles. “Wish you were, too.”

 

* * *

 

She falls asleep in the chair after cleaning the marker from Peter's face. The distant rumble of bickering rouses her, but she keeps her eyes closed.

“--know what's best for him! I appreciate how much you've stepped up, but you're not there yet, Tony.”

“I don't expect you to understand this—”

“Do not patronize me.”

“I'm _not_ , I just want you to see things from my perspective, for _five_ fucking minutes.”

One voice is Tony's, the other definitely May's.

“He cannot stay here.”

“That's not what I'm suggesting.”

She sighs. “What, you want _visitation_ or something now?”

“He could use the training. We've got facilities--”

“You won't be able to drag him away from patrol. He's married to it, it keeps him going.”

Tony laughs. “He's a _child_. Guarding New York shouldn't be his sole purpose.”

“I'm not suggesting it is. What I'm saying is you're angry you're getting resistance, but you should _expect_ it. You're his father, I get it. I understand what you want. But this is like living on a different planet for him.”

Tony makes a sound of resignation. “I just...this is _brand new_ territory for me.”

“I know.”

“I can count on _one hand_ the number of times I've been this sick before...Jesus, does it get any easier?”

“No. I'm sorry, but it doesn't.” Someone is walking closer now, sensible shoes clicking on the tile. MJ stays very still. “Michelle, honey.”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you should get some real rest for a bit.”

“Time is it?”

“Seven.”

May must pick up on her immediate distress – she doesn't want to _leave_ Peter, she needs to be with him, to call Ned so they can both be there when he wakes up –

“I'll come get you if anything changes.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on. Tony gave you a room.”

 

* * *

 

The room is twice the size of Michelle's bedroom back home, and the bed is...the most amazing thing she's ever laid on. She's out in two minutes, waking up at some ungodly hour feeling too hot and groggy to do anything but grab a quick shower and change.

Her stomach _howls_ , so she wanders somewhere for breakfast.

 **ned:** anything new?  
 **mj:** nothing yet. took a sweet nap tho  
 **ned:** seriously????????   
**mj:** this place is amazing.

She's sort of hoping to bump into an Avenger, but everything just feels...empty. When she finally winds her way back to the medical wing, Aunt May is talking to one of the doctors while Stark listens from Peter's bedside. He spots her through the window, waving her in.

“You look lost.”

“I'm trying to find the kitchen.”

May turns as the doctor leaves. “Not today,” she says.

Tony nods. “I figured.”

Michelle frowns. “He can't wake up yet?”

“They did a scan this morning. It's too soon.” May sighs. “You said you were hungry, Michelle?”

“Starved.”

“Let's take care of you. Tony, you need to eat.”

“Don't mother me.”

“You mean smother.”

“No, I _mean_ mother.” But he follows anyway, picking at a bowl of cereal a while later until a rather shaggy looking man comes up from an obscured stairwell and heckles him for even snacking.

“I didn't know you had an appetite.”

“Voracious.” Then: “Ah, introductions. Bruce, this is May, Peter's aunt. And this is Michelle, Peter's...friend? Girlfriend?”

“Confidant and decathlon captain.”

“Right.” Tony gestures toward the man. “This is Dr. Banner.”

“Bruce is fine.” He takes Tony's abandoned bowl and starts eating out of it. Every so often he looks at May, then at Tony, who is making aggressive upward motions with his eyebrows. Michelle is deeply concerned he'll let everyone in the tri-state area know his motivations, but May is reading something on a tablet and looking fairly oblivious.

“So?”

Bruce sighs. “No, Tony.”

“Alright, alright. Just checking.”

Bruce shakes his head. “How's Peter?”

“Stable, but nothing's changed.”

“Slowly, and then all at once, I told you.”

Tony shrugs. “We'll see.”

Their talk devolves into words Michelle knows, but doesn't enjoy associating with Peter. May gets a phone call, and pretty soon the entire kitchen has forgotten she's there. Which is okay. It makes slipping out a lot easier.

She facetimes Ned as soon as she gets to Peter's room.

“ _Anything?”_

“A lot of talk.”

“ _Can he hear us?”_

Michelle shrugs. “May said he could.”

“ _Talk to him for me! Tell him I miss him! Tell him I want to go the Avenger house, too!”_ Michelle relays the message. Ned seems placated.

Then she crawls into the bed next to him.

Ned _squawks._ “ _What are you doing?”_

“I'm tired.”

“ _You napped!”_

“I'm taking another one.” She sets the phone so she can see Ned's worried expression, giving him a grin. “How's the beach now?”

“ _We're going on a boat ride. I might go snorkeling.”_

“That sounds pretty cool.”

“ _I have a waterproof camera.”_

“Take some good shots for us.”

“ _I will.”_

She holds up the phone so he can see Peter. Not the best shot – the breathing tube and everything makes him a little less...Peter, she guesses, but Ned waves. _“Get better, man. Bye, MJ.”_

“Bye, Ned.”

 

* * *

 

She wakes up in fits and bursts. Sometime during the afternoon someone brings her a sandwich. She picks at it, falls asleep again. A nurse is there, sometimes a doctor. Michelle glances at her phone, realizes she's been allowed to stay here for most of the day.

She's aware, distantly, that someone does eventually come and carry her out of the room.

He's sturdy, smells like Old Spice and powdered laundry detergent. The kind her mom still uses.

When she opens one eye, groggy and unfocused, she sees someone lingering at the door, and she sees Steve Rogers close it behind him.

All of this is so surreal, and she wonders if this is what it's like, knowing a superhero. If this is what you get yourself into, when you decide to submerge yourself into their reality.

Captain America carries you to bed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**bruce** _

“Is it an option anymore?” Tony shrugs. “Alright, you just...let me know.”

“Maybe this is what they mean by _fate._ ”

“Don't know.” Bruce sniffs. “I never really thought the Hulk thing was fate. Just bad science.”

Tony looks up. “Peter says he got _bit_ by a spider.”

“Yeah, I've thought about that a lot. Obviously the venom was some kind of vector for whatever it was that did this to him.” He pauses. “Any changes?”

“None today.”

“Right.” Bruce toys with the spine of a notebook. “Nice of you to put up his aunt and that girl.”

“So you're thinking about her.” This is obviously a subject change Tony's happy about.

Bruce shakes his head. “Don't do this.”

“Natasha is a _ghost_ right now, Bruce. Barton can't even tell me where she is. She's incommunicado and you're--”

“That's not what this is about.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “Tony, she's a grieving woman. Her nephew is in a coma. I can't just...walk up to her. _Hi, would you like to get dinner? I'm also a disaster, all the time._ ”

“See? You have something in common.”

“It's not fair,” Bruce argues.

“What's not fair is you holding yourself back. You're not married _or_ buried.” He ticks these reasons off as Bruce turns his back to search for his missing cup of tea. “Come on, Banner, help me out here.”

“Tony. Drop it.”

“Fine, fine.” Bruce looks over his shoulder as Tony checks his watch, making a few notes. “Thor's on the move, apparently.” He pauses. “You sure you don't wanna talk about your adventure?”

“You've got other things to worry about, Tony.”

“Right, right.” He turns and heads out, leaving Bruce alone with a long-cold cup of tea in his hands. His usual company.

 

* * *

 

Peter's room is a little less medicinal when Bruce drops by later. He expects May or Tony, or that girl he met the morning before, but – no one. The room is silent but for the distant beeping surrounding them, quietly telegraphing Peter's soft life force into the universe.

His aunt's brought a blanket and some books – old sci-fi from the looks of them, the covers worn out from years of being thumbed through over and over. Bruce lifts one, folds the cover back –

_Ben – thought you could use a distraction from torts. -may_

\-- snaps it shut. Another.

_Ben – this one's from Peter, he picked it out of the line at the grocery store all on his own. Happy Birthday. -may_

_Ben – two years down, one to go! Happy finals week. -may_

_Ben – another one bites the dust. Proud of you. -may_

All of them, Ben's, until the last one –

_Pete – it's not all GPA's and comp exams out there. Sometimes it's aliens, too. -ben_

“Ben and Pete have a dedicated sci-fi shelf in the living room.”

Bruce shuts the little paper back and fumbles it on the bedside table, knocking most of the stack to the floor. “Shit, sorry--” He looks at her as she leans down to help. “Peter's really into this stuff, huh?”

“My husband and his brother were pretty big dorks. I think it runs in the family.” She pauses. “Well. I guess.”

“You guys took care of Peter. I don't think DNA always plays such a big part in the family thing.”

May smiles, righting the little stack and taking the rest of Bruce's hands. “Tony says when they wake him up he'll have to be here for a little while, so. I brought him some things to read. Might be a few steps ahead of myself, but.” She plants her hands on her hips, looking hard at her scuffed shoes. Bruce glances at the boy in the bed.

“I'm sure he'll appreciate your foresight when he has to listen to Tony prattle on about suit enhancement for six hours a day.”

“Is that what you two do down there?”

Bruce chuckles. “Sometimes.” Ultron leaps to mind. He pushes it aside. “Peter's really lucky to have you.”

“He's lucky to have all _this._ I don't know how we'd afford anything.”

“Tony would take care of it.”

“I know, but...”

“You don't like feeling beholden.” She nods. “Don't. He's reckless when it comes to certain types of cash flow. You should see my room here, it's--” He pauses. May looks up quickly, and Bruce's cheeks get home. “Or anyone's, really.”

She nods. “Spare no expense.”

“Spare no expense.” Then: “Tony isn't...harassing you about anything. Is he?”

“Just about Michelle. He thinks this was too much for her. Not sure when he became parent of the year, but...I don't think he's wrong. I should send her home.”

“I have a feeling she's going to resist. She seems the type.”

“All of Peter's friends are too smart for their own good,” she mutters, shaking her head. They stand together, watching the machine breathe for Peter. It gets awkward after a bit. Peter doesn't really belong to Bruce in any way. He doesn't know him beyond his brief visit to the compound, or beyond the new reports. And May is the woman who's raised him, and some unkempt physicist in loafers is watching her kid _breathe_ next to her, like he _belongs there._

“I need to get back to work.”

“Sure.” She turns to him and smiles. “Thank you. For coming to see him. For making this...easier.”

“Of course. This place is...better, because of Peter. I think, anyway.”

“I'm getting that impression.” She turns back to the bed and settles into the chair beside it, picking up one of the paperbacks and leafing to a dogeared page in the middle, settling in for the afternoon.

Bruce turns and leaves them there, but not before he moves to the stack and says quietly, “Can I--”

“Of course.” May reaches to the middle of the pile and pulls on out. “Ben and Pete like this one the best.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

 

* * *

 

 **tony:** how was ur bedside chat  
 **bruce:** please drop this  
 **tony:** security has you chit-chatting for fifteen minutes  
 **tony:** just letting you know  
 **bruce:** goodnight tony

 

* * *

 

_**sam** _

He feels like _shit._

Everything's hurt since their rumble with those weapons dealers, and the bodyslam into concrete he got when the kid snatched him out of the way of whatever it was that nearly pulverized the Spider-Man _did not_ help.

But it saved him, that's for damn sure.

Sam leans on the cane he's been using with his physical therapist and makes his way through the halls after his session. He's only been to see Peter once, partly because walking too far is _painful_ , and partly because –

god, Steve would be so mad –

Shame floods every part of him, any time he thinks about the way that kid just...laid there. Didn't move. Didn't even twitch. Every time he hears Tony's voice over his earpiece yelling Peter's name.

There's a nurse there this afternoon, making sure the kid's getting liquids and nutrients and everything. He's gotten thinner, probably. Sam has. Chewing's hard.

“He okay?”

The woman looks up, gives him a smile. “He's on the mend. The doctor's talking with Ms. Parker and Mr. Stark in the next room. I think we're headed in the right direction.”

Sam nods. “That's good.”

“And how are you today, Mr. Wilson? I helped set your leg, do you remember?”

“Uh, no. I don't. Sorry,” he adds quickly.

She shakes her head. “You were in a lot of pain. Just let me know if you need something.”

“Sure.” She gives him another smile and leaves the room. Sam stands awkwardly in the middle for a few seconds before settling into the chair. Someone had mentioned that Peter could hear them, sometimes. Sam leans forward, resting his chin on his cane. “Hey, kid.”

The breathing machine sighs at him.

“Yeah, I know.” He glances at the stack of books, the old blanket on the bed. Trinkets from home, to help him or help his aunt, Sam's not sure. “You're not awake, but...I wanted to say thanks. I'll do it when you're up, too, I just. Needed to get it out there. Sorry,” he adds. “You shouldn't have had to save my ass. I mean it's embarrassing, too, you know, since you were such a little shit in Berlin, but whatever.” He shakes his head. “You're gonna give me ten kinds of hell if you can remember I said all this when you wake up.”

He leans close. “And you're gonna wake up, or I'm gonna give _you_ hell, you understand me?” He stands. It's time to rest, PT took it out of him. “I'll be back tomorrow.” Sam eyes the stack of books. “Also I'm gonna take one of these. Can you believe this place doesn't have _Netflix._ ”

“It does. You just don't have the password.”

Sam turns with a start, finds Tony filling the doorway. “Don't _do_ that.”

“Team account. Ask Steve for the password.”

“Steve uses Netflix.”

“He watches that British baking show.”

Sam shakes his head. “Right. Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Tony says, and looks right at him. It's a little unnerving, but Sam'll take it over the way Tony was looking at him almost a year ago. Through the mask, determined to do what he thought was right.

Guess Sam can't blame him. Not for everything. Not forever.

(Well. He can for a few things, and he can hold onto _those_ things for as long as he damn well pleases.

Still

 _Still._ )

“How's PT?”

“Sucks.”

“It'll get better.” Tony claps him on the shoulder. “Enjoy the book.”

 

* * *

 

Sam thinks about bugging Steve to see if Tony was right (it wouldn't surprise him), but there's something about a book and a rainy afternoon – clouds have been rolling in all day, and now a storm is starting to tip-tap at the windows.

He cracks open the book ( _Ben – ten cent box at the goodwill, couldn't believe it. Camp's great, see you soon. -peter_ ) and settles into a chair for the night.

 

* * *

 

_**vision** _

_Wanda –_

_I hope you are well, wherever you happen to be this week. I know it can change from day to day, and I respect your desire to sojourn on your own. Still. You are missed here._

_The compound is abuzz with activity. The young man Mr. Stark brought to the battle in Berlin is family of his, apparently. A son, called Peter. He was injured in a battle last week, perhaps you heard of it wherever you are. The energy here is rather devastating, come to think of it. They've put the boy in a coma, and the remaining bits of our team sit bedside, holding a constant vigil._

_You would enjoy him, I think. He's young and clever, much like your brother was._

_I hope that did not upset you. I know you prefer not to speak of him._

_I am continuing to do so. I will change the subject._

_Mr. Stark and Miss Potts are engaged. They disagree on the truth of the matter. He says they will marry in June, though she insists a wedding will not occur at all. Perhaps when you return, you can suss out the truth in all this._

_The boy's staying here means an influx of outsides. His aunt, a lovely young woman who I often find crying at night in the kitchen. I apologize again, I do not think that is an appropriate story to tell in a letter to someone you care for and miss. But, again, I think your presence here would be appreciated. You have a way with empathy that I do not. I cannot understand her feelings or motivations. Obviously she is sad, and I know other facts that make her only more sad to me, and apparently to herself. I cannot decide which part of it all is worse._

_There is a girl, a young one here that is a friend of Peter's. Clever, I can tell. Cautious, even more so. But the rest of her escapes me. She is there most hours of the day. I have seen the Captain carry her to bed twice over._

_I've suggested you return too many times, I think. Mr. Stark says that we should not try to push too hard. That you have your reasons for leaving, and I should respect those._

_It is only hard because I miss you, terribly._

_My only friend, I think._

_That was too much. I apologize again._

_Wishing you well, wherever your days abroad shall take you._

_Yours,_

_Vision_

 

* * *

 

_**pepper** _

They can't find Tony when the doctors decide Peter is well enough to wake up.

So they call Pepper.

She _has_ run faster in heels before, she's certain, but she barrels down the halls and toward the hospital room, trying to call Tony, trying to _figure out where the hell he's gone_ –

He saunters in twenty minutes later, and she knows he knows, but he's trying to play it cool. She reaches for his hand.

“We're going to start weaning him off the ventilator and reducing the drugs. It's been almost a week, so this isn't going to be like flipping on a light switch.” May and Michelle are with them now, each grasping the others hand. “You'll see him go in and out a few times, but he won't be very responsive.”

“How's his head?”

The doctor gives them a smile. “Whatever that heal factor is, it's worth it. His looks really good, Tony. I promise. We're going to have to keep him under observation, and he's going to need some PT and some breathing therapy, but, honestly? It's looking really good. By tonight he should be extubated and off the drugs. We'll do another scan in the morning, but I'm not worried.” He looks at them all. “We pulled through.”

 

* * *

 

It's a process to reduce the drugs in Peter's system and wean him off the ventilator. His eyes flutter open every so often, prompting May to sit closer each time. Michelle disappears at one point, reappears with her phone pressed to her ear.

Tony paces in the hall.

“I don't like this.”

“I know.” Pepper reaches out, stills him. “But we're here, now. We've made it this far.”

“Like I really don't like this.”

She sighs, gripping his hand in hers. “But we did it.”

He nods. “Yeah. I guess we did.”

May sticks her head into the hall. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“They're going to take out the tube. Do you—”

He nods, going into the room after her. Pepper stays in the hall, watching through the window. There's a lot of work being done, the harsh sounds of suction coming from Peter's bed as they start removing the tube. Pepper gets a glimpse of his face – uncomfortable, tired, _young –_

Lucky, too.

They place an oxygen mask over his face, and he takes heavy, active breaths.

Pepper smiles.

This...isn't her family. Not all of it. Not yet. But she feels her heart _skip_ at the thought of Peter being around, Peter being there, being present, being... _Peter._ Spider-Man. All of it. She's grateful, she's happy. She thinks that if this is what marrying Tony will be like, maybe she'll stop fighting it.

She glances at the ring on her finger.

Maybe. Once the fun of teasing him wears off. Just maybe.

A June wedding _would_ be nice.

 

* * *

 

_**tony** _

May _hugs_ him. Tony needs to get _his_ head checked out, his thinks.

She hugs him, and Peter is coughing and breathing and looking around the room.

May hugs him, and Tony feels _alive._

 

* * *

 

_**may** _

She wraps Tony in her arms because they did this thing _together._ They didn't falter.

(The slap was worth it.)

Michelle hovers at the end of the bed, and May brings her into the embrace.

In bed, Peter drifts back to sleep, breathing without the mask or the tube, and looking, finally, like her nephew.

 

* * *

 

_**peter** _

His head hurts.

Everything sort of hurts. Talking isn't really possible. The first time his voice comes out of his mouth, it doesn't even _sound_ like him. It sounds like someone else, like someone he's never met before. He shuts up. He's got a reputation to maintain.

There's a lot going on he doesn't see. The lights are too bright, the world is too much. All his senses, everything is a lot. He drifts. He thinks he hears Michelle. He thinks he did hear her, days ago. Or hours? Or has it been weeks?

He definitely heard Sam. He's going to give him shit for that.

He heard Tony and May. Steve and Bruce.

God, he thinks he dreamed Michelle was there, but he's hoping she's not, even as he's praying she is.

(It means she's so much smarter than he's ever given her credit for – and that Ned probably caved.)

And if he's brought another person into this fold of people who know who he is, that just makes his stomach _twist_. He hates that he's done it to someone else, but he's too tired to blame himself and apologize.

He has a lot to apologize for.

 

* * *

 

His orange juice is thickened to help him swallow. It's...weird.

But he's starving, sucking down jell-o and jell-o-fied foods. Steve comes by to say hi, accidentally eats some broccoli goo.

“I thought it was guacamole,” he mutters, as Peter wheezes a laugh.

 

* * *

 

“Anyway, I brought some books, but I...” May frowns. “I swear I brought more than this.”

Peter glances at the stack. A memory comes to him.

_Bruce asking May to borrow something._

_Also I'm gonna take one of these._

“It's like one of those little libraries,” he manages.

She smiles, reaching out to stroke his forehead. “I'm sure we'll get them back.”

“Ben would appreciate it.”

May bites her lip, and she's going to cry again, Peter knows it, but he can't stop her. She's smiling, at least.

“Yeah,” she says. “He would.”

 

* * *

 

It's almost midnight when MJ winds up in his room. Peter's half awake, trying to decide whether to read or sleep. She crawls onto the end of his bed and draws her knees to her chest.

They stare at one another until she says quietly, “Three months.”

“...Huh?”

“You're going to ask how long I've known, but that'll put a strain on your voice, so I'm just telling you. I've known you were Spider-Man for three months.” She scoots closer. “I also know you have eighty-two freckles on your face.” She pauses. “I counted.”

“That's a fun fact.”

“That's what I told Ned.”

“ _Ned._ ” Peter feels awake now, starts looking for his phone, or something. “I need to call Ned.”

“I told him we'd facetime in the morning. He's been out of cell range for a couple of days, he just got back to his aunt's house a couple hours ago. He's missed you,” she adds. “He was worried.”

“Told you, didn't he?” MJ nods. “Punk.”

“He can't keep a secret. You picked the wrong dude to guard your secret identity.” Peter shrugs. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

“Fine's easier than the truth.” She nods. Peter swallows. “I thought I was just dreaming you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry. I mean I'm glad I wasn't. Not that I don't...don't enjoy dreaming about you, I just...ah, hell.” Peter falls back against the pillows. “I'm glad you're here, is what I'm trying to say.”

He closes his eyes, wants to say _more_ , but he's dissolving into a coughing fit and MJ is getting his weird thickened water.

“This stuff is weird.”

“I don't like it.”

“Get better then,” she says. She's so close now. She's _so close._

“I will.” He takes a drink. “I need some motivation, I think. Need to get out of bed.”

MJ moves suddenly to his side, stretching out and tucking herself under his arm. Peter relaxes, leans back.

“For the record, I did not pine at your bedside. I'm just...very glad to see you.”

“I know.” He looks at her, and she lifts her head to gaze at him properly. “I pined enough for both of us.”

“...For me?”

“For you. For solid food. For consciousness.”

MJ smiles. “Sap.”

“Well, one of us has to be,” he murmurs, and meets her halfway.

 

* * *

 

It was only a matter of time before the inevitable Tony one-on-one took place. Peter's pretty high off his makeout session with Michelle the night before, after which she refused to leave just on principle, but still. This is kind of a mood killer.

He doesn't want to be lectured on being careful or whatever.

He wants his girlfriend to read crappy sci-fi novels to him and he wants talk to Ned again. There had been crying. Peter misses his best friend.

But Tony's settling into the chair and talking about how long he'll need to stay at the compound before he can go home, what he can expect from PT and the breathing treatments.

Then: “I'm sorry, Peter.”

“...For what?”

“You got hurt and you got hurt because of me. I'm laying that out for you.”

“I got hurt because I got in the way. It wasn't anyone's fault.” _But my own_ goes unspoken.

“I'm your--”

“Don't say dad.”

“I'm your mentor,” Tony says. “I gave you the suit, I gave you the directive, I...Jesus, Pete, why are you making this hard?”

“I'm not. I just don't want to hear you feel bad for yourself.”

“You know, I knew you were gonna do this. Everyone else did, too, so why wouldn't you? You gotta be, like, _purposefully_ fucking contrary, don't you?”

“I'm just telling you the truth.”

“ _Let me_ feel like shit about this.”

Peter shrugs. “Fine. Feel like shit.”

“Good.” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “You scared the shit out of us, you know that?”

Peter looks at his blanket.

“Your aunt slapped me.”

“ _She did what?_ ”

“She hit me,” Tony says, points to his cheek. “Right there.”

“That's...”

“It was well deserved. She's a strong woman, you know.”

Peter nods. “I do.”

Tony sighs. Stands. “Right. We'll...do this thing later, I guess. I just wanted to get it out there.”

“Okay.”

He stops,looks like he's about to say something else before he moves toward the door. “Hey. I care about you, and I'm glad you're okay.”

“Thanks.” Peter leans back. “And thanks for...taking care of me, I guess.”

Tony shrugs. “Don't worry about it. Rest up, you've got stuff to do in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

He's in the same room as Sam for PT.

“Hey, Petey. You finally showed.” Peter looks sheepish. Sam lifts his cane. “Look. We match.”

“Yeah.” Peter looks at his own. “Guess we do.”

“ _Sam._ ” His therapist tugs on his shirt. “We have to finish these sets. And you _have_ to eat lunch today.”

“Not hungry.”

Peter shrugs. “I've got jello if you want some.”

“See?” Sam looks at his therapist. “That's the kind of generosity you _expect_ from a man who saved your life. Free god damn jello.” He smiles at Peter. “I took one of your books by the way.”

“You and half the compound.”

“Yeah, I've seen a few lying around here and there, that's what--” Sam stands up straighter, nodding toward the door. “Cap.”

Peter turns. Steve Rogers is still just – _god_ he's intimidating. Peter swallows thickly.

“You're up,” he says. “I heard when I got in this morning.”

“Yeah.” Peter looks down and nods. “Yeah I'm good.”

“I wanted to steal you for a bit, if that's alright.”

Peter's therapist shakes her head. “Fifteen more minutes, Captain.”

“Fair enough. I'll be in the kitchen.” He gives them a wave and Peter gets back to work. When he finds Steve a little while later, he's peeling boiled eggs, which, of all the mundane things Peter's never expected to catch _Captain America_ doing, it's _peeling eggs._

“Protein,” he explains.

“Makes sense.” Peter lowers himself into a chair. “So.”

“So.” Steve sits across from him. “You saved one of my guys. I haven't had the chance to thank you for it.”

“I was just doing my job.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Your job is to go to school and finish and become a productive member of society. Whether you do that by being Spider-Man or a teacher or whatever is up to you, I don't care. But right now that _isn't_ your job. But you did it anyway. And you didn't even have to be there.”

“Tony asked me to be.”

“But no one asked you to throw your lot in with the rest of us.”

Peter breathes. God he's...he's _angry._ He's so angry at being told that none of this is really his fight. Like Tony didn't offer him a new suit and a place on the team, like he doesn't have a _room_ at the freaking _Avengers compound_ , or access to all this amazing stuff.

Peter didn't choose the circumstances that made him this way, but he was the one who made his first suit, and he was the one who told Tony –

_when you can do what I can, and the bad things happen – they happen because of you._

“Peter--”

“Stop telling me what I shouldn't have to do.” He stands, a little too quick, dizziness overtaking him. “I'm...I'm sick of it. I'm sixteen, but I'm not an infant, and I can hold my own as well as the rest of you.” He points. “I _took_ your shield. I fought you. And your buddies. I took on the Vulture, I can _do these things_ , and I'm not going to stop just because you're worried about feeling guilty if I eat it.”

“You got _hurt_ \--”

“So _what?_ I'll be stronger. I'll do better. I'll work harder. But I'll do all of that because I want to.”

“Your aunt--”

“Gets it better than you do,” Peter says. “You're not my dad and neither is Tony. You aren't _Ben_. You've got no right to shove your...your _misaligned_ guilt complex down my throat just because it _sucks_ that I got these powers when I was fourteen and not forty.” Peter presses his lips into a thin line. “ _Fuck_ that.”

“ _Peter._ ”

“Thanks for the chat, Cap. Sorry I swore at you.” He tries his best to storm out of the room, but – it's hard with the cane.

 

* * *

 

“And you'll apologize to Captain Rogers. _Again._ ”

“ _No._ ”

“Yes,” May says. “You _will._ Everyone is just _worried_ , Peter. You have to understand that.”

“You know what I understand? That I got brought into this and everyone's just walking around on eggshells until I decide I can't handle it. Which _isn't_ gonna happen.”

“You can't yell at Captain America.” MJ looks up from her nails. “It's treason.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I can't believe you're both ganging up on me.” They fix him with twin stares. “ _Fine._ I'll apologize. But I'm not quitting. I'm not giving up any of this. Take the suit and I'll just make myself a new one.”

“I know,” May says, not unkindly. She takes his hand. “But Tony _is_ someone who cares about you. He's trying to do right, Peter. Everyone is.” She leans closer. “I know you're scared.”

“I'm not--”

“You are,” she says, and that unlocks it, right there.

The feeling of all the air in his body rushing out in a single stroke. The bones in his body clacking together, his brain rattlingin his skull.

Peter trembles and feels the air catch in his lungs.

“...It hurt so much,” he murmurs.

“I know.” May leans in and wraps her arms around him. He feels Michelle's hand hook around his ankle. Circle the swell of bone with her thumb. “Don't push us away because of it.”

Peter breathes. “I have to get better.”

“You will.”

“I have to be _stronger._ ”

May pulls back. “ _Peter._ You are the strongest person I know. A bad thing happened. It doesn't make you weak. Neither does everyone caring about you,” she adds. “Don't be combative just for the sake of it. It's alright to be afraid. And it's alright to say it out loud. That's your responsibility to yourself, Peter. You have limits. Don't break them.”

 

* * *

 

_(“With great power,” Ben says, turning off the television, “comes great responsibility.”_

“ _Cheeseball.” May kisses the top of his head._

“ _It's true! Peter, look at me.”_

_Peter is eleven, and his uncle has just won another case, gotten paid pretty much diddly for it, and they're still celebrating. He looks._

“ _Someday you might have the chance to make things better.”_

“ _Like you.”_

_Ben shrugs. “I'm not sure if I make things better, Pete, but I go to work and I try. And if you can make them better, then that means you've got power, kiddo. And when you've got power, you've got responsibilities. That's where corruption comes from.”_

“ _Don't talk about corruption at the dinner table.”_

“ _Where the hell else am I supposed to talk about it?” May rolls her eyes. “Anyway. If you ever have the power to change things, you change them, Peter. For the better,” he adds. “Some people, you know, they get a little bit of power and their heads spin. Like that Stark guy.”_

“ _Tony Stark is trying,” May says._

“ _He should try harder. That much money,_ **and** he's Iron Man? I expect great things from someone like that.” Ben points at Peter. “And so should you. Just because a man has a mask and some money doesn't make him great, Pete.”)

 

* * *

 

Tony's in his workshop when Peter goes looking. There's a lot of welding and banging happening, but it stops when he enters, and the smooth voice of Friday says, “ _Good afternoon, Mr. Parker._ ”

“Uh, hi.”

Tony looks up, pushing his welding mask back and fixing him with a grin. “Did you _swear_ at Steve?”

“I apologized! Twice!”

The mask falls back down as Tony wheezes with laughter, sitting on his work bench and catching his breath. “That's priceless.”

“It was _cathartic_ ,” Peter argues.

Tony shrugs. “Whatever you need, Pete.” He takes off his gloves and mask, tossing them onto a table. “What's up?”

Peter breathes deep. “I came to say I was...sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. For...being an little asshole, I guess. I know you're trying your best and you've really taken care of me and my family and MJ--”

“It's what you do,” Tony says.

“Right.”

“Look, I...” Tony stands pushing the hair back from his face. “I'm sorry I wasn't there, before. I'm sorry I didn't know, that we didn't have it sorted out. And I'm never going to ask you to give me more than you want to or more than you can, but...”

“I could...give a lot more than I have been.”

“Not an obligation.”

“Well.” Peter scuffs the floor. “You're...my dad, I guess.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“And I should want you there more. And I should want to _be_ there more. With you, for you, whatever.” Peter looks up at him. “I can do this. Just like I can wear the suit and...and show up when I need to show up. I can show up for you, too.”

Tony smiles. “Hey, that's all anyone can do, right?”

“Right.”

“And I'll be there for you. I promise. Whenever you need me, _what_ ever you need from me, I'll be there, I'll always--”

“Don't.” Peter sucks in a breath. “Don't say always.”

Tony's mouth works for a minute before he nods. “Makes sense.”

“Seriously. Don't promise to be there forever or whatever.”

“I'll be there as time and outside forces allow.”

Peter nods. “Better.”

They stand awkwardly in the middle of the workshop until Tony clears his throat.

“Are we huggers yet?”

“We could try,” Peter offers.

And so –

they try.

Feels good, he'll admit later, to have someone kind of just...hold on. It reminds him of May, the way she grips him extra tight in the mornings and squeezes his arms just a little too hard. Tony's got a different kind of grip, the kind that affirms, the kind of, in another time or place might seem like bullshit, but here, with Peter – it's not. A hand grips the back of his neck, and Peter _breathes._

He's starting to associate _this_ scent – burning, whiskey, grease, aftershave –

with something bigger than just...Tony Stark.

It's starting to feel like family.

 

* * *

 

_some moments last forever, but some flare up with love, love, love_

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw


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